Camp
by kcrae
Summary: Sansa and Arya don't usually get along and very infrequently want the same thing, but what happens when they do. Gendry/Arya, One-sided Gendry/Sansa. Totally AU based on a dream, I have no intention of continuing this universe but I may do an epilogue from Sansa's POV if the demand is there.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Arya's POV

Arya cursed to herself as she walked across camp. _Stupid, simpering Sansa. _She thought bitterly to herself._ The delicate flower of the North. Always surrounded by stupid, simpering lords and ladies. _Arya kicked up dirt as she sat herself beside the fire. Lem and Anguy were cooking sausages and she carefully stole them to eat. Neither of the men cared, they were used to Arya's pilfering. She'd always taken what she wanted. Not like Sansa, she always asked. Arya looked up to see Sansa laughing at something Gendry said to her. He was sitting, awkwardly Arya thought, to Sansa's right. He looked up and scanned the camp once or twice. Arya hoped he was looking for her but doubted it.

She'd gone through all the trouble of returning to Westeros, leaving the House of Black and White to save her stupid sister and this was the thanks she got? Her great idiot of a sister trying to steal her best friend? Her only friend.

Sansa wouldn't even have looked twice at the blacksmith, Arya's blacksmith, if Arya hadn't enlisted the help of the Brotherhood to free her. She'd heard Sansa was being held by the old Master-of-Coin in the Vale. She'd heard and so she went to save her. Robb and Jon were no longer around to do it and Arya felt like she was the only one left. Now Arya furiously wished she hadn't.

As she watched, Gendry excused himself, and Arya saw her opportunity. She swooped in to the seat he vacated easily and Sansa let out a startled yelp when Arya spoke.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing."

"Arya, you scared me. Where did you come from?"

"I was by the fire. Mayhaps you would have seen me if you hadn't been so busy fawning over Gendry." Arya did an impression then, giggling and throwing her head back. She waved her face dramatically and sighed. "Every time he helps you across a river or over a puddle."

"I wasn't fawning, Arya. And what's so wrong with that?"

"He's MY friend."

"So? Why? Are you only allowed to be his friend? Why can't I be his friend?"

"You don't want to be friends. You blush so hard every time he says any stupid thing I'm surprised blood doesn't shoot out your eyes."

"Arya, that's disgusting."

"You're disgusting."

"To be true, I hadn't thought of Gendry in that way until just last night. While you playfully kicked dirt at each other, he looked so…good. He was carefree and sweet and handsome and noble, the way a knight aught to look."

"Please stop."

"A woman could do worse than a Baratheon, even if he is just a legitimized bastard."

"Sansa, stop."

"It doesn't matter though."

"Stop it."

"He only ever talks about you." Sansa slumped a bit dejectedly. "I don't know why he only ever talks about you. He must like you a great deal."

"We're friends."

"Right, so why shouldn't he and I more than friends? Why can't you be happy for me? If I married him, Arya, I'd be a Baratheon and you would be his good-sister."

"I don't want to be his good-sister!" Arya's irritated cry was quiet but Sansa reeled back all the same.

"Arya," Sansa began but she was cut off.

"Arya," he said, standing over them. The girls looked up to see Gendry Baratheon looming over them like a mountain. He was dirty, Arya thought, Sansa probably thought that was novel after all the fat and pampered little Lords she's been used to.

"What?"

"We need to talk."

"About what?"

"Privately, my Lady." His voice was firm and commanding but Arya refused to bend. She was mad at him, furious.

"Don't call me that!" She said angrily, standing up and crowding his space. Gendry, to his credit, did not back down.

"He is only being polite Arya, and you should be calling him my Lord. You are too familiar." Arya turned to glare at her sister but Gendry's eyes never wavered from her face.

"We should be familiar," he said quietly, "after all this time."

"Whatever you have to say you can say it to me now."

"Come with me, we need to talk."

"Make me, my Lord."

He said nothing in response, just grabbed the top of her arm and jerked her forward. Arya grunted with the force and pulled back but his grip was too strong.

"Ser Gendry!" Sansa was on her feet and a few people had looked over to their little darkened corner of the camp.

"Did you not hear, my Lady, the Lady Arya tell me to 'make her' come with me since she would not come herself?" Arya marveled at his ingenuity, she hadn't expected it. Sansa was silent but Arya saw her sister nod out of the corner of her eye.

"Fine, I'll come with you."

"You should not be alone together." Sansa's voice was plaintive and Arya was enraged further. _How dare she._

"Come on, don't listen to her." Arya tugged at his sleeve this time and turning they went, leaving her sister alone on her log. Arya wasn't worried. One of the Brotherhood who was from a noble house, maybe Ned Dayne, would be along soon to console her.

They walked a little ways before Gendry veered off to the left and they headed for the edge of the forest. The land here was riff with hill tribes and many of them had been enlisted in the wars. They had clansmen posted in the forest and in the camp but were warned not to stray too far for not all the clans fought for the same side.

When they stopped Arya could still here the bustle of camp and could see the light from the fires through the trees but they were far enough out that Arya was sure they were completely alone. He just stared at her then, and Arya shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

"Well? What is it?"

"I'm not in love with Lady Sansa."

"Oh." She didn't know what to think. He'd clearly heard their argument and knew he was the topic. "Good."

"Why is that good?"

"What do you mean, why?"

"Why is that good? Why don't you want me to marry your sister? She says she likes me, doesn't she?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

"Because your mine!" She stopped, her breathing heavy and her face red with a jealousy she could hardly recognize. "You were my friend first."

"Well you're not acting very friendly." Arya shoved him and spun on her heel to stop off but he caught her arm and wrenched her back.

"Stop leaving." He growled into her hair. Her back was to him and she could feel the hard lines of his body unyielding against her. Arya shivered. She was fast and sly but she was small. Gendry was large, larger than when she'd left, and strong. His arms were thick cords of muscle and his chest had broadened out to accommodate his growth. _He is a man grown, _she thought despairingly. No wonder he spent time with Sansa.

"Look, if you want to marry Sansa and have fat little babies, fine! What should I care if you do?"

"I don't. I want you to stop leaving me." His grip softened and he turned her around to face him. She hadn't realized she'd been crying but when his hand lifted to her face and wiped across her cheek the wetness he found there glittered in the moonlight.

"I'm not going anywhere."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Gendry's POV

This was a bad decision. He was accustomed to making them occasionally, all things considered. He had been doing relatively well of late, he thought. It's just that Arya had to be so difficult, all the time. She was a constant pain in his ass and the saddest part of the whole thing was that most of the time he didn't care. He wanted to be with her. He was happiest when she was beside him, pestering him and fighting him and pushing at him. Though now his feelings were somewhat different than they once were. His groin tightening at the sight of her in the morning and his heart thumping whenever her fingers grazed his skin were both new sensations and only two of many. His body had never before felt so traitorous to him.

When she'd come to find him she'd wriggled her way into his bedroll in the dead of night, nearly scaring the wits out of him when he'd tucked in. He'd been sleeping in the forge to avoid Willow and Jeyne's accusing stares. It wasn't his fault he didn't want her. Jeyne had thought to make a husband of him and he'd thought to make a knight of himself. The two didn't work together. He'd been naked as the day he was born and Arya had slid a tiny hand up his back and over his mouth before he even had a chance to squeak. Her smallish breasts, grown larger with time, pressed against his back as firmly and menacingly as the steel of her blade at his neck.

"Will you help me," she'd asked later, when he'd dressed and she had stowed her steel. She'd spun a tale of a maiden locked in a skyward tower and the justice of her family and of course he'd agreed because she'd sat there before him, all sinew and soft flesh and begged it of him. He'd never been able to say 'no' to her, not even when she was a scrawny sapling of a girl with more angles than curves and more fury than sense.

And so they had called on the Brotherhood whom had been fighting a seemingly endless battle with warrior priests and roving bands of highwaymen and they agreed. The men needed something to fight for that was tangible and Arya brought it to them, wrapped up in a package of auburn hair kissed by fire and cool blue eyes. Sansa Stark.

It didn't take long before it became obvious to everyone at camp, including himself, that the girl from the tower seemed to favor him. Sansa constantly called him from Arya's side to escort her or to assist her and although the girl was nice enough he wanted to tell her 'no' many times. Still, he had courtesies and knew that to deny her would be a slight. So he did as he was told and sat with her as she laughed and simpered with the other brothers and Harwin or Ned. Arya fumed and insisted on calling him "my Lord" disdainfully.

He'd been legitimized by Stannis Baratheon a full three moons before Arya came to him in the forge at the inn and another month passed before they managed to liberate her sister. It was the last effort of a desperate man to continue his name. The brotherhood had brought Gendry to the dying king in his tent as he burned from the inside out with fever. Stannis had beckoned him close and after only one clear look shakily signed the paper Tom handed to him.

Gendry had been furious. He was the son of a disgraced king with no family to speak of remaining and all he had of his heritage was the memory of a mother and now a stupid piece of paper that did him no good at all. It didn't hold him while he slept or tell him stories or comfort him. It didn't replace growing up without a father or a family. He was forced to watch the last feverish moments of an uncle he would never know and for what? So that the girl he'd come to know and to trust and maybe to love could shun him for solitude because her sister wouldn't leave him be?

He sulked and searched for Arya often but couldn't find her unless she wanted him to. She'd grown, he'd noticed, into a young woman while she'd been away. Although she was all swaying hips, soft breasts and lean legs she was still small and fast when she wanted to be. He'd contained himself as best he could when she'd come to him and had continued to do so as they planned to rescue her sister and it had taken all his will power as a man and all of his honor as a knight not to kiss her lips as she explained plans or to brush his thumbs over the pink tops of her breasts when she leaned over him. Now he could hardly stand the distance between them at the cookfires and she was hardly speaking with him.

Earlier he'd spotted her crossing the camp and began to make for her but heard his name called from his left. He pressed on quickly, hoping to out walk the range of the voice that called to him but Harwin stopped him with a hand on his chest.

"Lad, you're wanted." Gendry turned and to his displeasure Sansa was sat on a log beckoning him over. He walked towards Harwin with a last look in Arya's direction but by then she was already out of sight.

By the time he's managed to extract himself from the Lady Sansa's company it had become dark and he stalked off hoping to find Arya at one of the fires. He'd only made it a few steps when he heard her voice carry over from the log he'd just been on.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing."

He listened as the sisters argued fiercely and stayed silent. Arya's tone was sullen and betrayed and it hurt him to think that he had abandoned her even though she had been the one not speaking to him. As their dispute reached its peak he moved from behind the clothesline he'd been standing behind and went to extract Arya from what he considered the beginning of a terrible fight. Gendry was unused to the sister's bickering but he felt sure Arya would stab her older sibling. He didn't think it would be a mortal wound but Sansa would probably not forgive Arya either way.

After no small amount of coercion he managed to get Arya away from camp. He was immensely grateful that Sansa did not know her sister well enough not to interrupt their row and effectually push Arya into his arms. Standing there, furious, with the tears on her face glistening under the light of the full moon and her hair in a glossy tangle about her head, Gendry thought she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

She had tears on her face and a frown on her soft mouth and she was glowering at him sullenly. She told him she wasn't going anywhere but as she said it there was an edge in her force, daring him to challenge her. Gendry shook his head, of course she would make this difficult, but he wouldn't make it easy on her.

"Good," he said with a smile. He could be difficult too.

"What does that mean?"

"Only that it is good, my Lady."

"Why do you want me to stay if I'm not friendly?"

"I don't want you to be my friend."

She looked stung. He pulled his hand back from her face, covered with tears as it was and brushed it across his breaches before leaning in over her, their faces only inches apart. He felt her breath hitch in her throat as he moved closer and smiled. She was tense in his arms, ready to pounce like a cat from the back alleys of King's Landing.

"I am yours."

He tilted his head and bent slightly just so his lips hovered over hers.

"My Lady I," he began his declaration but her mouth over his cut him off. Always making things difficult, his Arya.


End file.
